"Farewell!" said Valentine. "Farewell, Joan! Sleep in peace, at the spot where you valiantly fought; the remembrance of you will not be easily effaced."
"Farewell, Joan!" said the count, in his turn. "Sleep in peace, good friend."
Cæsar had watched with intelligent attention the movements of his masters; at this moment he placed his forepaws upon the grave, smelt the earth, and then gave two lugubrious howls.
The young men felt their spirits very much depressed; they remounted their horses silently, and after having taken one last farewell look at the spot where the brave Araucano lay, they departed.
They had by degrees diverged a little towards the right to get nearer to the mountains and were following a narrow path traced along the rather sharp descent of a wooded hill. Cæsar suddenly pricked up his ears, and sprang forward, wagging his tail.
"We are getting near," said Louis.
"Yes," Valentine replied, laconically.
They soon reached a place where the path formed a bend, round which the Newfoundland disappeared. After passing this elbow, the Frenchmen suddenly found themselves in front of a fire, before which a quarter of a guanaco was roasting; two men, reclined upon the grass at a short distance, were smoking comfortably, whilst Cæsar, gravely seated on his tail, followed with a jealous eye the progress of the cooking of the guanaco. These two men were Curumilla and Trangoil-Lanec. At the sight of their friends, the Frenchmen dismounted. Valentine led the horses up to those of the Indians, hobbled them, unsaddled them, and gave them some provender; then he took his place by the fire. Not a word had been exchanged between the four men.
"Well?" Trangoil-Lanec asked, at length.
"The battle has been a fierce one," Valentine replied.